No Fear
by Hareyu
Summary: I dedicate this fanfiction to Thomas Barber and his Christina...you'll be missed...


No Fear  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first fanfic, but I think I did fairly well. Just to tell you, it is sad, but I seem to write sad stories better than I do happy ones. Also, there might be some mistakes, but I didn't want to spend hours editing it. Oh, well.....enjoy! (^_^)  
p.s.- All my fanfics are yaoi free!  
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Here I am in this war. I match the sounds outside of my Deathscythe with the grim scenes before my eyes. Destruction is everywhere. Looking on my monitor I see that the flashing dots are looking friendlier. I raise my scythe up again, only to bring it down once more, splitting a Leo. The explosion echoes in my gundanium sanctuary. I can never comprehend why I kill. I always spat out some excuse. People think it's so easy....I hate killing....even if they are the enemy. I always try to divert my mind from thinking about the ones I kill. Did they have loved ones? How many hearts did I break? How many lives did I ruin? How many dreams did I destroy? The number rises as my scythe falls. I am the Grim Reaper incarnate. I carry out his Earthly work.....but, but I just can't seem to stop. Not until this war and genocide is over.  
  
The monitor is now blank. This one battle of many is over. I look around me; only four Gundams including mine. Quatre's Gundam is laying face up on the ground. Instinct fills me as I lower Deathscythe, opening the hatch. As I run towards Sandrock, I see the other pilots standing by their Gundam's, eyes downcast. What do you know? Quatre's not....no, he's not dead. The damage looks very light. Nearing Sandrock, I see that the hatch is open. Did he make it out? The small area inside is empty. My eyes dart to my left, then to my right, stopping at a body laying awry in a pool of crimson liquid. I run towards it, praying it's not him. It is. My legs move faster until I reach him. Quatre...oh, poor Quatre. He looks worse than I have ever seen him. Falling to my knees I extend my hand to his neck. Thank you God. A pulse...a very weak pulse, but a pulse none the less. What could I do? I searched his face for any signs of consciousness. His eyes were closed, covered in blood from a cut on his forehead. His once blonde hair was now tainted with dirt and blood. Blood ran from the side of his mouth, and using my sleeve, I wipe it away. Looking at his chest I see so much blood. How could you still be alive? I rip open his shirt. My eyes suddenly blur as salty, hot tears fill them. I bring my hand up to my mouth, gasping. A large piece of metal is protruding through his chest. Dear God..... In my mind I know there's no hope. I am looking at a dead man. Suddenly his tear and blood stained eyes flutter open. I stare into them; they don't have that brightness....that life in them. He begins to lift his head to look at his chest, but I quickly bring my hand to his eyes, covering them. Please....don't look. Just don't look. I pull my jacket off, laying it under his head and neck. He knows. He knows he's gonna die. I can tell by looking into his eyes. I manage a smile to comfort him. I know he just wants me to be by him during his last minutes, or less. I put my hands under his back, lifting him up onto my lap. Using my other hand I hold his head up. Holding him in my arms, I cradle him like a newborn, telling him it will be alright, know it isn't alright, and it won't be. I can almost feel the life slipping out of him. I hold him tighter in hopes to keep the life in him, avoiding the metal fragment, knowing that it is making him suffer. He closes his eyes but is still breathing.   
  
Stroking his head, I think about his short life. Why does he have to die? Why was someone like me left to live? Quatre's life was probably more worth living. Mine was going nowhere. He was the nicest of us all. He never cared about himself. He put everyone and everything first.   
  
He opened his eyes again, lifting a bloodstained, trembling, hand and motions for me to bring my head down. I lower my ear to his mouth, waiting. After a quick breath he whispers, "Thank you, Duo. You were always there for me. Win this war, Duo. I know you can. Please, let there be peace again." He took another breath then continued. "You've always been like a brother to me, Duo, and I love you for that. Tell everyone I will miss them." After that he closed his eyes, but continued to breath, struggling for every breath. I just stare at him, speechless, as tears roll down my cheeks. I close my eyes, making the sign of the cross on his chest then saying a short prayer. As I open my eyes I look down at his hand. It's not shaking anymore. The color has drained from his face. It's over......over. I hold his frail, limp body close to me, bawling my eyes out and screaming to the sky. Why?!?! Who had he wronged to deserve this? He was the bright, shining light who never wanted to dim.  
  
The Alliance will be here soon. They'll take his body away, only happy that the battle is over, never knowing or caring why Pilot Winner died. No fear, Quatre, I will win this war for you. No fear.....  
  
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Awww...well, that's it! Please tell me if you liked it, and if anyone wants me to write some more, please E-Mail me with ideas or suggestions! Thanks so much for reading!  
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